


Boogieman Isn't Gay (Part 1), The

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-13
Updated: 2003-01-13
Packaged: 2018-11-20 06:17:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11330211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Krycek has become quite obsessed with a certain someone.





	Boogieman Isn't Gay (Part 1), The

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Boogieman Isn't Gay (Part 1), The

### Boogieman Isn't Gay (Part 1), The

#### by Jamwired

Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own Alex Krycek. The X-files and its characters are the property of Chris Carter and Twentieth Century Fox Film. Copyright infringement is not intended. 

This story has no sex but is a slash story. It contains slashy situations of the m/m kind. If you find this offensive, please leave now. Consider yourself warned. 

Thank you to my beta reader, Dana. 

* * *

The Boogieman Isn't Gay  
Part 1 

* * *

I'm here again, you know. Well, no, you don't. I stand here, wondering what you dream of. Imagining what you could be imagining. Do your ghosts haunt you when you sleep too? Do you dream of your past only as a twisted nightmare not worse but more bizarre than it actually was? You look so peaceful. So peaceful that I couldn't touch you; I wouldn't dare. 

It hurts. Standing near breathless, trying to silence my beating heart because it's so loud in my ears, and I'm afraid you'll hear it. Knowing that if you did wake up, the last thing you'd do is invite me into bed with you. I could laugh at how pathetic I am, but if I did, I would be denying what I feel. 

I know it's obsession. I could say it's love. I could say it's a healthy way of trying to gain a semblance of normalcy in my fucked-up life. But people don't do what I've done to the ones they love. And what I consider normal doesn't constitute breaking into this place almost every night just to stare at you. 

It surprises me how easy it is to break in here. Hell, if I wasn't the one breaking in all the time, I'd leave a little note on your pillow telling you to get a better security system. 

God, I want to touch you. You never knew how much I wanted you when I was still with the FBI. What could I have said? 

//Hi. I know you're probably straight, and I know you hardly know me, but I was wondering if you could throw me over your desk and screw me like a dog in heat? Would it help if I call you "Daddy"?// 

Proceed you kicking the shit out of me. 

I wonder why I keep coming here. What compels me to leave my shit-hole apartment, where at least if I'm there, I could be getting a good night's sleep? Well, the obvious answer is I come here for you. I come here to watch you. Like now, with the sheet that I assume you wrapped around yourself before going to bed now tangled around your legs. I find that so endearing. 

I want so much to crawl under the sheets with you. To wrap my arm around you and bury my nose in your side. I did once...well, not exactly. I didn't wrap my arm around you and fall asleep by your side, but I did lay with you -- which is not exactly under the sheets, but considering you weren't under any sheets at the time, the point is moot. 

God, I was scared. I remember crossing the room, trying so hard to not make any noise, then just as silently sitting on the bed and stretching out beside you. Don't think I'm idiotic or anything; it's not like we reached second base or even first for that matter -- you were asleep for Christ's sake -- but I was next to you, lying next to you. If I had reached out just barely, I could have touched your sleeping figure. And pitifully enough, that was the highlight of my day. 

I always play that scene over in my head. At the time, I was so tense, trying not to move or wake you. But what if I had moved, and you'd found me there next to you? I have this fantasy where you just take me in your arms, and we fall asleep together. Well...like I said, it's a fantasy. Usually I just envision myself being a stuttering imbecile and you beating the shit out of me and throwing me out the window. 

//Wha...What the hell are you doing in my bed, Krycek?!// 

//Wait, don't talk. I know you hate me, and I know you don't want me here, but I couldn't stay away. You see, I've been coming here almost every night for the past few months, and I think I'm in love with you. Well, maybe not love, but you know what I mean. I mean, I know you don't know I'm bisexual, and actually not very many people do except for the men I've slept with. But considering I didn't have a very good childhood and was mentally and physically assaulted by my father until I was twelve, it's really not that much of a surprise. I mean, I've probably been with more men than women, but to tell you the truth I never really counted because I didn't want to depress myself. 

//But anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I think it would be a good idea if we started having a relationship, and I don't mean just sex because if I just wanted sex, I could pay for a whore, and I'm sure I'd be safe, but if I did happen to catch any diseases, I probably wouldn't be too concerned about dying from them because my life expectancy isn't that high to begin with, and I most likely have more chance of being killed in some job I'd be hired to do than an STD.// 

Ensue ass kicking. 

Shit, it's getting late. Recently I've been able to tell how late it is just by watching you. When you're still not fully asleep, you twitch a lot. It's kind of sweet, but it reminds me of a paraplegic. I'd hate to tell you that to your face though. 

//I'm in love with you, and when you start falling asleep, you look like Josh Beaty from my second grade class who everyone used to make fun of just because he was physically disabled.// 

When you're at the deepest part of sleeping, I can see your eyes move under their lids. You twitch then too but not as much. I wonder why that is. I've seen other people sleep, and most of them had the height of their spasms when they were at their deepest sleep. Then again, the people I watched were probably dreaming about trying to escape and running for their lives -- trust me, you don't want to know. 

Then I guess this is my time to leave. I know you won't know I've been here; I take all the necessary precautions. With the exception of finger-printing the place -- which you'd have no reason to do -- I don't think you'd find any evidence that I'd been here. Well, except for that time I came here slightly drunk, but I don't think you'd have any reason to do a DNA test on that little stain in the corner. 

Until tomorrow. Sleep well. Good night. 

* * *

The End 

* * *

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Jamwired


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